Why You
by XtreMePeroXwhygeN
Summary: She doesn't deserve any of it, and he is about to make it better, with some help. Main Characters: Lita, Chris Jericho
1. Chapter 1

I'm back babyyy!!

New story, new updates, everything.

For this new story, well its different than anything I have ever written before so bare with me.

_Now I got an idea for writing a fan fic from watching a video on youtube. For those who have been watching wrestling for a long time, you know the video. After reading this it should be __clearer__. __If__ you are still confused__,__ the next chapter will clear things up more._

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I wish I knew how she felt. I wish I could take her pain away. But we all know it doesn't work that way. She is stuck where she is and she is engulfed in all her own pain. And the only thing I can do is stand here and watch. Unfortunately, that is exactly what I am forced to do.

She is a strong girl, I'll give her that much. Hell…I'll give her anything in the world. She took care of herself for this long, but for even longer she has been on the edge. Longer than I could remember, she's been teetering on a perilous brink. She's only been able to dodge some of the pain…but most of it hits her directly in the heart. Where have I been, you ask? Shouldn't I be sheltering her from this cruel discomfort? Instead, I've been standing right in front of her.

I've been dating her best friend, actually. But enough about me. Time to get to the real story.

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The feeling was amazing. Seeing all of those people cheering for you even though all you are doing is standing there looking out into the crowd. Except for that night, I don't think the cheering was for me. I think…no, I know that they cheering were for her. However, tonight was different, and I stood there looking upon my very own tv-tron. The logo that flashed in front of it only reminded me over and over again of whom I was and what my purpose was for the night.

My first guest came out, blond hair flowing behind her back as she walked. She had her "walk" that she was famous for. It was full of confidence and pride. On this night it had a bit of an edge to it, and at that point I wasn't sure if it was only an act. The fact that she was very well aware of what was going to happen in a few short moments may have influenced her gait. She entered the very ring I was standing in. She gave me a glance that was supposed to be hurtful in front of the crowd, but I saw past it in her eyes. She was as nervous as I was.

I just didn't show it.

The music…her music.

That hair…her hair.

Those eyes…her eyes.

They were all strong and perfect.

As was she.

Out she came, as powerful as ever. It wasn't the way she came out; it was more of the purpose hidden within that made the difference. Down the ramp she came, her purpose written deeply behind her hazel eyes. She gave a quick taunt to the fans, which I figured was a sign telling not them but herself that she wasn't alone. She had the support of millions.

She entered the ring unlike any other diva would. She slid in and popped up, showing everyone that she was ready at all times. For someone going through what she was, she stayed in character very well. She was immediately up in the face of the only other diva in the ring. They played it out as if they were perfect enemies, when in reality, they were exchanging glances of support. My job was to merely tell a referee to stand between them. But only us three knew that there would be no problem if the ref wasn't there. Then the talking started. The smaller blond diva started first. It was all rehearsed, even though it didn't sound like it. She hated to say the things she was forced to say because it only made the pain worse. I tried not to flinch as I saw the pain behind the hazel eyes of the perfect human being standing across the ring. Now it was my turn to say something. Of course, it was some cheesy line about whores and what not. It always was. After that was done, it was my job to hand the mic to the beautiful creature standing there so strongly. She glanced in my eyes for a split second as the now warm plastic of the mic traded from my rough hands into her soft precious skin. Her words started to come out, hazel eyes acting as a barrier against the tears. They were some of the strongest words I have ever heard. Full of pain and sorrow, they were still full of truth and meaning. Once she was done the whole crowd was silent for a little more than a split second. It seemed like everyone was soaking in her words. It didn't last for too long because of the obnoxious music that came blaring throughout the entire arena. I saw her eyes turn a shade darker than I have ever seen them. The soft hazel transformed into dark brown as she turned to see a man cruel enough to be the devil.

And that was taking it easy.

Inside this man's arms was what she gazed at next. A bundle of something was inside his arms, emitting a soft but shrill cry. He held this in one hand and a mic in the other. He starting spewing out his words, like poison oozing out of a venomous cut. I watched her as she focused on the small package inside his arms; the words were just background noise.

My heart almost exploded; my anger followed.

He made it into the ring, and was asking her to hold on to what was now revealed: a live baby. The poor girl didn't need this. She was trembling but she wouldn't back down as she barely stretched her arms out. It was as if she was reaching out not only for the bundle, but for hope. She barely got her arms up before he ripped away the bundle…and the hope. He was now screaming at her. She shouldn't be screamed at. She was delicate. Her heart couldn't take that. Yet I couldn't get myself to move. I heard in the softest whisper that she was praying. I wasn't sure if it was for the life that was depending on the arms of this untrustworthy man in front of us, or for herself. The man dropped the mic, which made a deplorable thud when it hit the ring. This made us all look down. Once we all looked up, we saw the figure of a baby being unmercifully kicked…punted into the crowd. Both my instinct and her instinct was to duck, and I heard her tiny scream. We looked out to see a crowd member holding the baby _doll_ up in the air like a trophy. It was sickening. We turned back to the man just in time to see him laughing like someone told a joke.

Like this was all a joke.

She backed up; the tears in her eyes threatened to fall. She turned to me, and I grabbed her hands. I was in desperate need to let her know I was there for her. It was then that I heard her whisper, _I can__'__t do this anymore. _Then she spun around to face the man himself. Everything was a blur after that. I was on his ass faster than he could react. Over and over my hands hit his skull, making sure that he was feeling nothing but pain. But this wasn't even half the pain the woman who was now outside of the ring was feeling. I dropped him to the outside of the ring, and I dropped kicked him through the ropes. I then dropped to the outside and started to go after him, but was stopped by a big boot to the face. I could pretty much say that knocked me out cold. But I can still remember what happened after that.

It was like watching a movie. My whole life was like a movie.

Because my name is Chris. Chris Jericho.

The blond girl standing outside the ring goes by the name of Trish Stratus.

The man who ruined all of our lives was now walking up the ramp. He was known as Gene Snitsky.

And the broken diva now sitting against the side of the ring is named Lita. Actually, her name is Amy.

Amy Dumas.

And she just happened to be my baby sister.

And her life has been ruined.

By me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter...it explains alot.**

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If I got paid to leave you confused in this mess, I would be considered Donald Trump. I know millions of questions are running though your head. For example: Why is the one and only Chris Jericho is telling little old _me_ a story? Or how about this one: The one and only Chris Jericho and Lita are related? It's hard to explain actually. But I'll try my best.

You see, it all started about 38 years ago, when I, Christopher Keith Irvine, was born. I lived with my mother and my father in a perfect little house in Manhasset, New York. It was like this for about four years, until my mom became pregnant again. You could just about say that I was the happiest kid in the world. I always wanted a little kid in the family. I remember the day she went to go and find out the sex of the baby. I didn't really understand at the time what was going on; all I knew was that I would be finding out if I was getting a baby brother or sister. All I remember was my mom coming to pick me up from grandma and grandpa's. She was crying. My grandma and my mom had a talk and her and I stayed the night. My dad was nowhere to be found.

It was a hard time for my mom and I. She told me the next day about how I was going to have a little sister. She said nothing about my dad. I was afraid to even ask. This went on for a couple of months. We moved into my grandparents' house. My mom told me that my dad had moved away because of his job, and that he loved me very much.

I got to help my mom with everything since she was getting tired from having to carry the baby. She wasn't the same as she used to be…instead she was extremely tired all the time. My grandpa had to stay home from work to take care of her. One Saturday morning, I was watching cartoons with my mom. Suddenly, I heard my mother's scream, and I turned around to see a lot of water on the floor. The tone of the cry was one of surprise with a hint of anxiety, so I called for my grandma. She came running in, and my grandpa had to rush her to the hospital. I was really scared, but my grandma held on to me for a long time, telling me that my mom would be okay.

It was a couple of days before I got to drive up with grandma to the hospital to see my new sister and my mom. Anticipation built, and a sense that I would be needed as a big brother now filled me with importance as I carried the teddy bear I was saving for my sister lovingly in my arms. When I got in the room they told me I had to be really quiet. As soon as I walked in the room I ran up to my mom, who was in a hospital bed. She looked peaceful; satisfied that the child that she had been protecting inside of her for 9 monthes was finally in this world to stay. She smiled at me and kissed my head. She told me to turn around and meet my new sister, Amy. Just like she had said, my sister was sleeping soundly in her crib. I walked over to her with my bear. I had my grandma lift me up to get a better look at her. She had red hair just like my dad did. I slowly reached in and stroked her head. Then I placed my teddy bear next to her. Her tiny hand met with the bear and it looked as if she was taking it in her small embrace. I smiled at the sight, and a tenderness I had never experienced before washed over me.

The years went on and Amy and I became best friends. She never got to meet our dad, so I would tell her all the stories I could remember of him in order to provide her with a glimpse of a man she would never see. I would tell her how she had red hair like him. She loved to hear that. She still had that bear that I gave her. She held it close to her every night, comforted by the love that it signified.

By the time I was 16, Amy was just turning 11. I had just arrived at my wrestling training, which was just outside of town. I loved wrestling more than anything, other than my two girls back at home. I parked my car and got my gear out of the trunk. I shut the trunk and looked up, coming face to face with the man I thought I would never see again.

My father.

You could just about say my eyes popped out of their sockets. I couldn't believe that he was standing there. He had grown out his beard to a medium length, and his red hair was slightly faded. His dark hazel eyes held a mysterious glaze to them. He was dressed in old clothing, which looked like they had been through every kind of weather.

"Chris," he said.

"No, you aren't real. It's just like every other dream. I'll wake up and you will still be gone." I denied myself the privilege of believing this illusion of my father so that when disappointment came with the harsh reality, I could bear the truth.

"Chris, I am standing right here…don't be ridiculous." This was the man that left me for 14 years of my life for no reason, and he was telling ME not to be ridiculous!

"Why did you leave Dad? Mom needed you. I needed you. Amy needed you." My dad's eyes darkened at the name of my little sister. It was just like when she got mad; her eyes would darken, just like his.

"That's none of your business."

"How is it none of my business, Dad?" I raised my voice. It started to crackle slightly because of the tears that were forming in my eyes.

"Your mom didn't want me there anymore, and I had no choice but to leave."

"That's a lie." I said, not wanting to believe a word he was saying.

"You're right, it is a lie."

"Then what's the truth?" The _truth_. I often wonder if a devastating truth would be better than a lie that I was forced to believe for most of my life.

"You want to know the truth so bad; you want to know why I left high and dry."

"Yeah Dad, I do. I do want to know why you let my sister and me suffer all these years without a father."

"She's a girl," was all my dad said.

I took a double take of that, replaying the words over and over again in my head.

"Of course she's a girl."

"And that's why I left. Another girl in the family. That's all I needed; to bring another useless girl in this world. Another one to complain about her womanly needs and another one to watch out for."

I stood there speechless. My father left my family because his child was a girl.

"She's not useless!" I screamed at him. I felt the anger rising into my head. I was ready to explode. Combustible rage filled me. My father saw this and backed up.

"What do you love more than anything in this world?" my dad asked me suddenly.

"Her." I said without any doubt.

"Other than…her. Nothing human."

"Wrestling."

"Exactly. Son, you see, wrestling is a man's sport that was brought into this family to be carried on for the rest of our lives. And with another woman in the family, it would have just dragged us down."

I couldn't listen to another word of this. Right then and there I took a swing at my father. My fist collided with his skull, instantly knocking him unconscious. He fell to the ground by the tire of my car. My fist throbbed with intense pain. My head was spinning, and I couldn't think straight. I felt myself pass out right in front of the training building.

Life was put into a whole new perspective for me that day. I explained to my mother everything I found out, and she began to cry endlessly about not doing the right thing. I told her it wasn't her fault; I knew she didn't want to inflict us with the pain of that horrible truth any sooner than necessary. I held her until she fell asleep. Then I went up to Amy's room. I turned on the light to see her sleeping. Her long red locks were spread across her face. I walked over and kneeled in front of the bed. I stroked her head just like I did at the hospital so many years ago. I promised myself, and whispered softly to her, that I would protect her from any harm this cruel world threw in her way.

"You're anything but useless." I whispered to her as I turned off the light and walked out of the room.

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Please Read and Review...so I know if I should keep this one going...since not many people seem...interested.


	3. Chapter 3

It seems like no one is reading this one at all...which sucks since ive been workin hard on it :(

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If I could take a wild guess at what question is running through your head, it would be…Why is the one and only Chris Jericho telling me his life story? And the only answer to that is…well…there isn't really an answer. You'll just have to bare with me.

I have loved wrestling ever since I was six years old. Each night, I would watch the big names like Hulk Hogan and Bret Hart fight for championships. As I watched with devotion night after night, a desire formed within me; I was determined to fight in the same ring one day. After my mom finished putting Amy to bed, she would come sit with me and watch too. Most of the time she fell asleep but I didn't mind. As I got older, so did Amy. She didn't really understand wrestling like I did. I was always explaining to her what each move was and how it was done. Soon, however, she was a pro, just like me. We would watch it together every night, sharing a passion. We saw more than just the pointless violence that others perceived wrestling to be; we believed it was a sport. By this time I was old enough to mimic everything I saw on TV. I ended up breaking my arm after attempting to suplex my pillow off the bed. That's when I discovered the benefits of my first trampoline: it was softer than the ground, I can tell you that for sure. It was then I realized why "do not attempt" to flash across the screen. I was eight; what did I know? Let's move on from my stupid stunts; I'm not especially proud of them.

By the age of thirteen I was able to sign up for what was called MWTA: Manhattan Wrestling Training Association. The guys there taught me everything I needed to know to actually look like a wrestler. Plus, they taught me things I needed to know in order to wrestle _well_. After all, there_ is_ a big difference between being able to act tough and actually being able to defeat an opponent. Amy would come and watch me wrestle sometimes. I wouldn't let her in the ring when the other guys like Kevin and Dave were with me though. It was far too dangerous, and I don't think I could've lived with myself if any harm came to her under my supervision. Instead, she would watch us kick the shit out of each other until we were too tired to stand. Then she would come in the ring and act like a highflyer. I taught her the hurricanrana for the first time. Since that's the only move she could do, she practiced it a lot. By the end of my sixteenth summer, she was executing that move on every guy in the building. And we had some pretty _big _guys.

By age twenty I was the best wrestler in the place. There were a couple of talent scouts coming by now and then…and I always made sure to be there when they came. I wouldn't miss the chance to go into the WWE for anything. I had a practice match between one of the other members of MWTA. I pulled out all the stops, including my MWTA-famous Walls of Jericho. Within weeks I was off into the big leagues.

I know, I know, you are all probably saying, "Chirs, that still didn't answer how you ruined Lita's life." But we'll get there in time.

My sister, well we all know the story about my little sister going to Mexico to become a luchador and then her coming back to the U.S. to become WWE's best female wrestler. Now that we have that covered, let's get to the real story.


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